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Dec. 9th, 2004 01:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
andrew_jorgensenHaving just last night finished Pride And Prejudice, and having invested a not inconsiderable effort learning to unweave Austen's triple negatives and ironic switchbacks (which somehow transform to switchforwards), I today decided that delay would mean only later repeating struggles already hard-won and called upon my local Border's to buy Emma. There I faced that bedevilment of public-domain publishing, the anxiety that arises from an overabundance of options. Choosing my edition of Pride And Prejudice had been simple: I found my Signet Classic in the Simply Books at Cleveland Hopkins International, where it was certainly not nestled among a bounty of versions from other publishers. (In fact I purchased it as much in response to the slight tickle of finding something so high-brow in an airport as out of any felt obligation to actually read it.) Though the demerits of the Signet Classic are obvious: cheap paper besplotched with a crabbed and murky typeface; its single virtue shines forth brightly: it is completely and utterly unspoiled by footnotes.
My new Penguin Classic Emma, it is shameful to say, lacks this chastity. And so, on page ten, I encounter:
This would not have been even just half as vexatious had I not, a page before, floundered upon the word valetudinarian unexplicated by any footnote. The etymology suggested by my small Latin provided a definition along the lines of "someone with? acting in? the capacity of being? wishing? well." The context suggested that wellness was not at all what Austen was invoking. And so I spent the drive from Caribou to my home and dictionary obsessively wondering if Mr. Woodhouse was of a manner to say goodbye a lot -- all because Penguin is inconsiderate with its footnotes, stingy where they would be a charity, and generous where they are neither required or desired.
My new Penguin Classic Emma, it is shameful to say, lacks this chastity. And so, on page ten, I encounter:
"No, papa, nobody thought of your walking. We must go in the carriage2 to be sure."As I am of an obsequious and obedient nature, I turn to the back of the book, where it is revealed:
2. carriage: Four-wheeled private vehicle drawn by two or more horses. Ownership indicated a considerable degree of wealth and social standing.Well (if I may be allowed to turn an Austenian phrase myself) no shit.
This would not have been even just half as vexatious had I not, a page before, floundered upon the word valetudinarian unexplicated by any footnote. The etymology suggested by my small Latin provided a definition along the lines of "someone with? acting in? the capacity of being? wishing? well." The context suggested that wellness was not at all what Austen was invoking. And so I spent the drive from Caribou to my home and dictionary obsessively wondering if Mr. Woodhouse was of a manner to say goodbye a lot -- all because Penguin is inconsiderate with its footnotes, stingy where they would be a charity, and generous where they are neither required or desired.
